After a few hugs and heartfelt goodbyes, the group drifted out of the pub. I could hear their voices outside the door, trailing down the road, eventually dispersing altogether.
I grinned to myself. What a magical day.
Aside from that small bump at the end…
I fully intended to pretend that the strange encounter never happened.
Even if striking, gold eyes were still seared into my memory.
Brushing those thoughts away, I slipped into the comfort of routine. I made my rounds, quickly tidying up the space and extinguishing any lingering fire in the fireplace before picking up the dragon box and tucking it under my arm. I saved any extensive cleaning for the morning—Tandor and Linc could handle that. That’s what employees were for.
The lock audibly clicked into place as I tugged the door shut.
Immediately, the hairs on the back of my neck rose.
I knew it instinctively—I wasn’t alone.
I glanced covertly over my shoulder, and then in the other direction, trying to spot whichever folk was watching me.
I saw nobody.
There was nothing out of place, just the normal cloak of night settling over the town.
“Think I’m imagining things, Brambleby? Am I losing my mind?” I asked aloud.
The dragon didn’t respond, of course, but I felt better hearing my own voice break the eerie silence.
“Better get on our way, then. Everyone is asleep.”
A twig snapped somewhere out of my sight. I jumped, my heart skipping a beat.
Imagining things. Only imagining things. It was probably just a squirrel.
Clutching the box to my chest with both arms, I walked to my cottage as fast as I could without breaking into a full-blown run. I didn’t want to jostle the dragon, to startle him into attacking me. Or worse, to cause him any discomfort.
My breath clouded in front of me in quick puffs, the air cold enough to snatch my breath and nearly freeze it, but not quite.
The entire way, I resisted the urge to glance over my shoulder.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being followed.
But surely, that was nonsense.
The sound of my hooves clacking against the cobblestones was deafening in the quiet night. Even the rustling ofmy cloak and the fabric of my trousers hardly registered in my alert ears.
I walked faster.
“We’re almost there, little guy,” I said quietly. “Then we can relax.”
Brambleby rustled in his box. Weirdly enough, the action made me feel better. Like I wasn’t alone.
I nearly jumped for joy when my cottage came into view.
Nestled a small stretch beyond the edge of the forest, my cottage was a comforting sight. The outside was coated with crawling ivy, the strands reaching for the sky with spindly tendrils.
My mind might have been playing tricks on me, but the cottage looked ominous in the dark. Like it was haunted. Inhabited by spirits. Even the enchanted lantern I kept out front couldn't chase away the clinging darkness, and the burning candle inside did nothing to shine through the windows.
I pulled the door open as fast as possible, slamming it shut behind me and latching the deadbolt. I tugged on the doorknob twice to be sure it was locked. I even kicked it for good measure.
